


(do anything) for that boy

by swimgood



Series: cause i kinda like it! [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Like they're pretty much always talking about sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8901304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimgood/pseuds/swimgood
Summary: The thing with being in love with Seokmin is that he makes it so easy.





	

For someone so consistently cheery, Seokmin has never been much of a morning person. He lazes around in bed until noon on days that he can, sleeping or scrolling through his phone or grinding his morning wood against the curve of Soonyoung’s hip. On days that he can’t—which is most days, thanks to the adulthood responsibilities he’s still adjusting to—it isn’t until he’s gone through three sets of alarms, breakfast, and an ominous amount of caffeine that he’s able to resemble the living.

To Soonyoung, it’s pretty adorable. To Jihoon, who’s sitting in their kitchen for an early morning meeting with Soonyoung, it’s less so.

“Put some fucking pants on,” he groans, hiding his face in his hands. Seokmin shows no sign of having heard, shuffling around the kitchen in his boxers (the pair with candycanes and snowflakes and tiny reindeer humping each other that Soonyoung got him last year, making him puff his chest in pride) until he reaches the coffee machine.

Soonyoung laughs at Jihoon, allowing his eyes to linger slightly on Seokmin’s backside. “This is why I said we should meet at a café,” he reminds Jihoon. Seokmin perks up at his boyfriend’s voice, turning around to face the kitchen table.

His lips quirk in a very understated version of his usual smile, which then spreads into a full-body yawn. “Haven’t seen you in ages, Hoonie,” he says through the yawn. Jihoon spreads the fingers covering his eyes so Seokmin can see his glare.

“Wish we could’ve kept it that way,” he mumbles, but either Seokmin knows him well enough that he knows it’s not serious, or he’s too distracted by the full mug of coffee Soonyoung left for him on the counter. Soonyoung can’t tell for sure, but he thinks there might be tears in the younger’s eyes.

He abandons his spot by the coffee machine to grab at the mug, eyes closing in what could only be euphoria when he feels that it’s still warm. “I’m in love with you,” he says, which Soonyoung chooses to accept as directed to himself instead of the beverage.

And while Soonyoung would love to go up and poke him in the stomach, where he’s most ticklish, or graze his teeth against the bump of his nose, he decides to take pity on Jihoon and instead redirect his attention back to their work. His dance showcase is coming up soon, and he needs as much objective input as possible: while he loves Seokmin, the man will look at anything he does with stars in his eyes. Jihoon, on the other hand, tends to align himself more on the critical side.

They go over the planned stage layout, the choreography’s synchronization, lighting decisions and whether or not Chan is allowed to take off his shirt.

“He’s a baby,” Seokmin pops in, some life back in his voice, sitting in the chair next to Soonyoung. He presses a kiss on the older’s cheek, then rests against his shoulder.

“He’s twenty,” Jihoon corrects, rolling his eyes. “And that’s exactly the point. He wants people to stop thinking of him as a kid.”

Soonyoung pouts at the same time that Seokmin lets out a disapproving whine.

Under the table, Soonyoung squeezes Seokmin’s knee, rubbing circles when Seokmin’s tongue presses against his neck.

\--

It couldn’t have been longer than a week since the last time they curled up like this, paying more mind to each other than whichever movie is on TV, but Soonyoung still feels like he’s been yearning for it. They’re very tactile people: it’s how they work. If Soonyoung wants a hug, Seokmin’s arms are already open; if he wants a kiss, Seokmin is already leaning in; if he wants to cuddle, Seokmin is already pressing himself against his chest. They’ve been too busy lately to spend the kind of time together that they’re used to, and Soonyoung misses it.

“You know,” Seokmin starts, looking up from where he’s lying. He runs his hand through Soonyoung’s bangs, and the older bites his lip. “I don’t think I’ve told you how much I like the black.”

Soonyoung snorts, because that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Ever since he came home with black hair, dyed by Minghao’s expert hands, Seokmin has taken every opportunity he has in order to point out how much he appreciates it. “You really have,” Soonyoung says.

Instead of denying it, Seokmin hums. There’s a darkness in his eyes, and Soonyoung is about to suggest they migrate over to the bedroom—couch sex might be convenient, but they never actually got it drycleaned after that time Mingyu got too drunk and gave it some love in the form of his stomach contents—but as soon as he opens his lips, they hear a moan.

They both freeze in place, confusion settling as they stare each other down. “That wasn’t you,” Seokmin says slowly, coming out more like a question.

Before Soonyoung can respond, a loud crash interrupts his train of thought, followed by another elongated moan.

“Oh my God,” he says, staring at the wall connecting their apartment to the one next door. “Is that our new neighbour?”

As if to answer, a second voice joins the first, this one with the distinctive inflection of the Busan native that moved in a week ago. 

Seokmin bites his lip, but giggles spill out of him anyway, shaking Soonyoung along with him. Soonyoung can’t help but join, face scrunched up as laughter bubbles through his grin. This isn’t the first time he’s had a particularly loud neighbour, but the last one was during university, where this kind of thing was understandable.

“That poor girl,” Soonyoung says. “No one is ever that loud unless they’re faking it.”

Seokmin hides his face in his hands, giggles turning into cackles.

And while Soonyoung is tempted to throw his head back and yell _“Oh, Seokmin! Right there!”_ until the neighbours understand his pain, he is an adult, no matter what anyone says. He has a degree, a job, a tax return slip he’s been putting off, and an apartment with his boyfriend of three years. He can make mature decisions.

So he grabs the remote and raises the volume until it’s all but deafening. The TV is playing an old Christmas movie, one with carols and children and the power of family.

“You’re awful,” Seokmin laughs. The pounding against their wall slows, then stops entirely.

In lieu of a response, Soonyoung grabs the younger’s hands so they’re no longer covering his face, and presses his lips to the red of his nose.

“Come on, Rudolph. Save a horse, ride a reindeer,” he says.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Seokmin says, but he allows Soonyoung to tug him to their bedroom, anyway.

They leave the TV on, just in case.

\--

Christmas Eve passes, and so does Soonyoung’s performance. It’s been too long since he was the one on stage; while he loves teaching, nothing can replace the feeling of being under a spotlight, grinning under the heat while endorphins swim through your blood.

Chan keeps his shirt on, thankfully. Junhui doesn’t, but Soonyoung should never have expected otherwise.

The car ride back to their apartment is filled with Seokmin’s praise and Soonyoung reading letters from his students, bouquets sitting on the dashboard. He keeps Seokmin’s roses on his lap, occasionally pausing to grab one of the chocolates inside the bouquet.

"I love you,” he groans, hazelnut filling melting in his mouth. “This is better than sex. Your dick is never coming near me again unless there’s a box of chocolates tied to it.”

Seokmin laughs, assuming Soonyoung is kidding (which he is (mostly)). “That kinda sucks, since I really wanted to ride you when we get back,” he says casually.

Soonyoung slows his chewing. He licks his lips, both to taste the last of the chocolate and as a response to the image in his head. “After, can I tie you up?”

Any other time, he’d be worried when Seokmin looks away from the road, but he’s kind of distracted. Seokmin’s biting his lip, and Soonyoung wants him to pull over on the side of the highway so he kiss him roughly, suck on his tongue until he’s panting for it, slide his hands on those thighs he loves so much—

But Seokmin’s turning back to face the road, his right hand slipping off the wheel to loosen his collar. “Why do you think I’m wearing a tie?” he says.

And Soonyoung wants _so much_ ; he wants Seokmin more than he’s wanted anything in the world, more than the signed Taemin album that Seokmin got him for his last birthday, more than those hazelnut chocolates sitting in his bouquet. He wants him so much that he forgets that he just worked his body to the brim, and the adrenaline is going to wear off at any point.

By the time they get home, Soonyoung doesn’t so much as get his pants off and he’s yawning into Seokmin’s mouth. They stay like that, pants tangled at their ankles and shirts half-buttoned, staring into each other’s eyes until Seokmin’s face splits into an answering yawn.

“God, we’re so old,” Soonyoung mumbles, voice thick with exhaustion. He rolls over to look at the alarm clock on his bedside table, feeling offended when it isn’t even midnight yet.

“You worked hard today,” Seokmin says, rubbing comforting circles on Soonyoung’s abdomen. His dick gives a half-hearted twitch, but he can tell that’s all he’s gonna get at the moment.

“Tomorrow I’m gonna tie you up and bone you,” he promises.

“Yeah,” Seokmin says.

“And then we’re gonna nap, and we’re gonna open our Christmas gifts, and I’m gonna blow you under the mistletoe, and we’re gonna go back to sleep,” he continues.

“Sure,” Seokmin says.

And they do.

\--

One of the things with being an adult, Soonyoung has realized, is that all of your friends are your partner’s friends, and your partner’s friends are your friends’ friends, and eventually you’re at a New Year’s Eve party arranged by your coworker and you find out he’s been dating your boyfriend’s friend’s boss for the past three months and things are getting serious.

“Seriously?” he says, eyes boggling. “Seungcheol? Mingyu’s Seungcheol? Seokmin’s Mingyu’s Seungcheol?”

Jihoon hides his blush behind a scowl, while Seokmin’s Mingyu’s Seungcheol looks slightly too intoxicated to understand the particular combination of words. His arm is still wrapped around Jihoon, which seems like a safety hazard to Soonyoung, but maybe major bodily harm is something he’s into. Soonyoung doesn’t judge.

“It makes sense, kind of,” Seokmin says. He’s been eyeing the champagne, but Soonyoung’s still in shock, and there’s no way he’d let his boyfriend leave him alone in this parallel universe.

The door opens behind them, and Mingyu himself stumbles through, his fingers wrapped around—no, it can’t be—

“How do you even _know_ Myungho?” Soonyoung asks, voice a few octaves higher than normal.

Minghao raises an eyebrow. Soonyoung tries to stare at their linked hands, but his eyes keep gravitating to the alarming red Minghao decided to dye his hair. While he’s distracted, Seokmin leans in to Soonyoung’s ear. “They’ve been together since your birthday party,” he explains, in what may have been a whisper if not for the fact that he said it at a completely normal volume.

“When Mingyu threw up on our couch?” Soonyoung asks, partially to clarify and partially so Mingyu knows he hasn’t forgotten.

Mingyu laughs nervously, while Minghao scowls. “And on my lap. I made him pay for dry cleaning.” Which, honestly, Soonyoung should have done with his couch, but watching Mingyu scrub at it in rubber gloves and a face mask may have been worth the lackluster job. And there are more important things to bring up.

“I thought you were all _straight_. I thought we were the token gay friends. Are we not special? Is this what the millennials have done to our society?” he bemoans.

“Literally shut the fuck up,” Jihoon says, shoving him out of the doorway so Minghao and Mingyu can make their way in. Mingyu heads straight for the appetizers, dragging Minghao with him when the shorter tries to grab a glass of champagne first. “Just go and drink until you forget, or something. That’s the point of New Year’s.”

And, to be fair, Soonyoung had always kind of wondered about Jihoon. And Minghao did like to talk about how attractive men are. And there was that time Mingyu said that if he and Seokmin ever wanted a third, he’d be interested.

Soonyoung lets Seokmin direct him to the drinks, staring back at where his boss and his boyfriend’s friend’s boss are cuddled by the door, hosting a New Year’s party together. “I thought Jihoon was like, an alien. Is he even capable of positive emotion? I think I’ve seen him smile once. Maybe twice, tops.”

Instead of humouring him, Seokmin presses his lips to Soonyoung’s. And Soonyoung is never one to turn down Seokmin’s mouth when it’s offered to him, so he settles into the kiss with the kind of familiarity that comes from being with the same man for much of your adult life.

When they break apart, Seokmin is smiling one of those tiny smiles he gets when he’s thinking about how beautiful Soonyoung is, or small dogs, or something like that. “Grandma, you have to let the kids live their lives,” he says, pitching his voice to the familiar rumble.

Soonyoung scrunches his face up. “Ah, you’re too mean to me, grandpa. When I was their age, love was about money, not sticking your babymaker where another man relieves his bowels.” Seokmin tries to keep in character, but he slips into giggles at Soonyoung’s expression, and the older tucks himself into Seokmin’s chest.

Someone groans behind him, and Soonyoung turns around to see Chan with his hands over his eyes. “It’s not even midnight yet,” he mumbles, walking around them to grab a glass of champagne.

“Young man, you’re not old enough for that,” Soonyoung scolds. Seokmin nods along, settled back into their familiar routine.

Chan’s lips twitch as a laugh threatens to spill out, but he tries to prove his newfound adulthood. “I’m _twenty,_ I’ve been legal for years.”

Seokmin clicks his tongue. “Age is just a number, Channie. You’ll always be grandma and grandpa’s little boy, even when you’re our age, paying for our retirement homes.”

Something in Chan’s eyes softens, and he looks away. “Yeah, yeah. I love you guys, too.”

The older two can’t hold themselves back, wrapping their bodies around Chan’s—a much larger body than it had been when he was Soonyoung’s student, already working his way to one of the teaching assistants, but still the same kid Soonyoung held when his dad couldn’t make his recitals. He groans again, but Soonyoung can feel how he settles into their embrace.

“We’re all getting older,” Soonyoung says, back in his normal voice. “That’s the point of the New Year.”

And when someone bumps into the table, spilling champagne all over Jihoon’s floor, the three of them immediately pretend they were getting appetizers the whole time.

\--

Valentine’s Day is more relaxed this year, something he and Seokmin agreed on after last year’s incident involving wet floors, a previously unknown bath salt allergy, and Seokmin’s broken leg. This time they stay home all day, calling in sick from work, which Jihoon seems to know is a euphemism based on his reply to Soonyoung’s text. It’s fine; Jihoon gets it, kind of.

“I missed this,” Soonyoung says, dragging his fingers down Seokmin’s tanned skin. He presses into a bruise from earlier, enjoying the way Seokmin shivers.

“We have sex, like, all the time,” Seokmin says, but doesn’t stop himself from grabbing Soonyoung’s ass.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Not that, obviously. We’re young and in love and constantly horny. That’s normal.” He moves his hand from Seokmin’s body in order to tug at the covers, because it’s still February and he’s naked and the sweat is rapidly cooling on his skin. “I mean, like, lying in bed. No plans for later, even though it’s a weekday. Knowing that I’m allowed to do anything I want with you because I don’t have to go and teach teenagers how to dance while my ass is sore.”

Seokmin hums, moving his arm so it’s wrapped around Soonyoung’s waist. “You’ve been pretty sentimental lately,” he says, voice warm.

“Yeah. I guess I have,” Soonyoung says, keeping his gaze from drifting to the coat lying on the floor and the small box in its right pocket. Instead, he allows a smile to spread, forcing his eyes shut.

When Soonyoung reopens his eyes, Seokmin has the kind of soft expression on his face that’s usually saved for newborn animal videos. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but with no intention of going further; instead, he lifts his hands to cup Soonyoung’s face.

“Seokmin?” he asks, feeling the pull of his skin against his boyfriend’s hands.

As though jolted out of some reverie, Seokmin blinks the unidentifiable emotion out of his eyes, and allows his mouth to return to its default blinding smile. “You’re getting your bunny cheeks back,” he explains, and squeezes his hands.

Soonyoung yelps, instinctively ducking his face. Seokmin allows him to pull away, and instead wraps his newly free arms around Soonyoung’s torso, holding the older against his chest. “Don’t say that kind of thing,” Soonyoung complains. Seokmin’s shoulders shake in a quiet laugh, and he presses his face against his boyfriend’s neck.

“I missed them. Now I can squish you again, and get rid of all those gross grain-based diet bars in the cabinet, and stop worrying that you’ll overexert yourself at the studio,” Seokmin says, voice muffled.

And it’s not like Seokmin’s worries are baseless: Soonyoung had been fully aware that he was working his body too much, but it was necessary before his performance. Now that it passed, however, he’s been allowing himself to compensate for those months of restriction—maybe overcompensate, given the roundness returning to his body, but he tries not to beat himself up over it.

So Soonyoung tugs at Seokmin’s hair until he raises his head, and presses a light kiss to his lips. “I’ll always be your bunny, Seokminnie,” he promises, and it’s hard to kiss someone whose smile is doing its best to break out of his face, but he’s had practice.

\--

On Seokmin’s 23rd birthday, Soonyoung gives him, in order: a kiss; a handjob; an obscenely priced Starbucks giftcard; a ring.

Seokmin smiles brighter than the stars. Seokmin accepts, accepts, accepts, and gives himself in return.

**Author's Note:**

> synopsis: soonseok are precious and everyone has their face in their hands at some point.
> 
> shout-out to beyoncé's "countdown," which the title is from, because that song + domestic soonseok is the only pure source of joy in this world. i wasn't very clear on the universe, but this is meant as a non-famous au where soonyoung is a dance teacher along with the rest of performance unit and seokmin does. something. i was thinking nurse or vet tech, but i didn't exactly plan that far ahead. considering that i wrote this thing in a day and didn't proofread at all, i'm sorry if it came out super rushed and/or awful.
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
